The Dungeon Bat and the Grim Reaper - A Conversation
by usignolo
Summary: Severus knows that he should have died that night in the Shrieking Shack. Nobody could possibly survive that abomination of a snake burying her venomous fangs deep inside one's neck. But as he laid there on the dust-covered floor, alone and on the brink of death, an unexpected figure appeared and wanted to know just one thing: What is it that makes your life worth living, Snape?


**Disclaimer: I don't own the "Harry Potter" book series. The story of "Harry Potter" is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.**

* * *

Severus Snape felt like his entire body had been set ablaze.

He could barely stand the paralysing pain as the deadly venom rushed through his veins, tainting his flesh. Everything hurt. Slipping in and out of consciousness, he clung onto the little bit of life that he still had inside of his broken body as he forced his fragile lungs to take a rattling breath, barely getting any oxygen. A lone tear escaped his dark eyes.

He did not want to die.

He could feel a sudden cascade of disgustingly warm blood gush from the gigantic wound on his neck, covering his entire upper body until his black clothes were soaking wet and the floor underneath him was stained deep red. It hurt so, so much.

He did not want to die.

Spending countless years switching back and forth between the dark side and the light, he had always been prepared to breathe his last at every second; to be perfectly honest, he'd been looking forward to it. Not being afraid of death was probably the one thing that had made him successful at being a double agent in the first place. But now – now he was terrified, absolutely mortified. No. NO! He had only just found the one thing he'd been looking for, the only reason to keep going! Blinding agony engulfed him as he was screaming inside of his head, begging to any and every deity out there that might be listening to not take that away from him.

He did not want to die.

Oh, but it hurt! The loss of blood was beginning to make him feel dizzy and delirious. He wanted to lift his hand but could barely even move his fingers; he felt so, so incredibly weak. The writhing pain felt like a thousand needles dipped into alcohol piercing his skin over and over again without mercy, like hot metal scalding his neck.

He wanted it to stop – but he did not want to die, not now.

But fighting it became so hard and he hated himself for it – hated himself for being too weak to do something to save himself now; hated himself for not foreseeing the Dark Lord's ruthless plan; hated himself for taking too long to realise that his biggest treasure had been right in front of him for all these years. His bloodless, pale face was contorted with pain; his vision was becoming clouded. It was a hopeless battle and he knew it – his body had already given up and his mind was about to follow.

But he did not want to die.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang coming from his right – it almost sounded like heavy boxes falling over – but he could not bring his eyes to move. He gasped for words that never came. The last thing he heard was the sound of footsteps swiftly approaching his figure as he fell into darkness.

He did not want to die.

* * *

He opened his dark eyes to blinding whiteness surrounding him from all directions.

A confused frown appeared on his face. He did not know where he was. Was this the afterlife; was this what being dead was like? Just … nothingness?

He slowly got on his feet, a bit shaky at first, making sure to keep his hand close to his wand pocket in this unfamiliar place. Stretching his limbs, he realised that there was not a trace of ache left in his body. He looked down at himself and saw that he was dressed in his normal everyday clothing. There were no blood splatters and no fang-made tears in the thick black fabric. His left hand shot up to his neck – nothing. Just smooth intact skin. Was he dead?

Not knowing what to do, he hoarsely called out, "Hello? Is anybody there?"

The words echoed through the empty realm, but they did not seem to reach any living being as there was no answer, just deafening silence. He strained his eyes looking into the distance, but all he could see was whiteness. He turned on his heel but still – just whiteness.

So he started to walk. He did not have a specific destination in mind – how could he if there was just nothingness all around – but he knew that he needed to do something; that he needed to try to find a way out of this place.

And so, he walked.

* * *

He let himself fall onto the floor with a loud thud. Leaning back until his shoulders were touching the ground, he buried his face in his calloused hands before growling in frustration.

It felt like he'd been walking for hours but he could not be sure – maybe it had only been a few minutes, after all; since at least his feet weren't tired yet. There was still nothing but whiteness surrounding him. Had he been running in circles? The repetitive sound of his steps ghosting across the floor had been the only thing breaking the silence and he almost could not stand listening anymore. He was certain that he was going mad. Was he dead? Was this really going to be his fate, spending the rest of eternity wandering through absolute nothingness all alone?

He could feel his eyes starting to burn. No. No, no, no, no, no. He did not want to die, not now! He let out a heart wrenching sob before curling up in the fetus position. "Why? WHY?" He screamed at the top of his lungs. "WHY?! I DID NOT WANT TO DIE!"

Suddenly, a distant sound broke the silence. Startled, he sat up, his dark hair a ruffled mess, and looked into the direction from which the howling noise was coming. There, in the far distance, he could see a small black dot that was slowly growing bigger and bigger, seemingly coming closer to him. Relief washed over him – he wasn't alone after all! But just as he was about to shout for joy, he all of the sudden realised that that black something, whatever it was, was coming towards his position way too fast.

Panic instantly grew inside of him. He leapt to his feet and started to run. Anywhere, anywhere but far away from that thing! He sprinted as fast as his muscles would allow him to as the sound behind him became louder and louder, more threatening with each second. He did not dare to look back. No matter what that thing behind him was, he was sure that it was no good. The noise became even louder, making his ears ring. He felt like he needed to throw up. He was now convinced that he was not dead yet – because wasn't death supposed to be the ultimate relief?

Without warning, he found himself hitting the floor face first – he'd tripped over his own feet. He wanted to get back up and flee, but it was too late. The blackness had caught up to him; it was now dancing around him menacingly, cutting off any escape routes. His hooded eyes grew big and he let out a bloodcurdling cry. He felt like his heart was about to give out, it was beating so fast.

"**IT IS NOT YOUR PLACE TO DECIDE YOUR OWN FATE!**" a furious voice roared of which he could not tell the source – it somehow seemed to be coming from every direction at once. "**YOU HAVE CHEATED ME SO MANY TIMES, SEVERUS SNAPE. IT IS ABOUT TIME THAT I TAKE YOU FOR MY OWN!**"

The obscure darkness began to tighten around him, coming closer and closer until it was about to swallow him whole. Everything was pitch-black now, almost too dark for the eye to handle.

He had never been this frightened in his entire life; but yet somehow, he managed to yell out, "NO!"

"**HOW DARE YOU CONTRATICT ME!**" The screeching became almost unbearable, threatening to make his eardrums burst. He was sure that his head was about to explode. The monstrous veil, which seemed to have a life of his own, somehow turned into tiny razor-sharp diamonds, ripping at his clothes and cutting him down to the bone. He screamed in agony as entire junks of flesh were forcefully torn from his arms and legs. Not even the venom of that blasted snake was able to compare to this torture.

"NO, NO, PLEASE! I BEG YOU! I CANNOT DIE, NOT NOW!" he implored desperately.

And suddenly, it stopped. The darkness disappeared and everything was silent. All he could hear was his own fitful breathing and the sound of his blood pumping through his veins. Not brave enough to look up, he hid his tear-streaked face in his shaking hands. Hell. This must be hell. He was finally paying for all of his sins.

"**LOOK AT ME!**" the voice demanded.

No. No, he couldn't do it; he was too fearful. He wasn't prepared to face the devil.

"**LOOK AT ME!**" it hissed again, somehow even louder and more horrifying than before.

Out of the corners of his eyes, he could see the shadows start dancing again and too terrified of their excruciatingly painful blades, he complied. However, he regretted that decision immediately when he soon found himself staring directly into empty eye sockets of the Grim Reaper.

His ghoulish appearance was such a terrifying sight that he couldn't help but yell out in absolute horror. The marcid figure was wrapped in a long and tattered cloak, the frayed hemline floating around the both of them eerily despite the air being completely still. But even the robe's deep hood wasn't able to mask the horror that lied beneath it: Through large holes in the rough fabric, the yellow tinted bones making up the monstrosity's body could be seen. Rotting flesh covered in stinking pus, maggots and worms was hanging from them, looking and smelling so disgusting that he had to forcefully suppress the sudden urge to vomit. In his right hand, the undead was carrying an almost ridiculously tall scythe to which not only a shimmering silver hourglass but also some ghastly-looking shrunken heads were attached.

"**I AM NOT ONE TO GIVE SECOND CHANCES**," Death said, his emotionless skeletal face fixated on the pathetic human at his feet. "**SO TELL ME, WHY SHOULD I SPARE YOU? WHAT IS IT THAT MAKES YOU LIFE WORTH LIVING, SNAPE?**"

He was crippled with fear and felt like he was about to pass out. The voice, the appearance, those void eyes – Voldemort had nothing on this guy. "Her," he finally squeezed out in a mere whisper.

"**HER?**"

"Hermione," he answered trembling from head to toe – it was the first time that he'd said her given name out loud.

The Angel of Death slowly leaned forward until their faces were only inches apart and it took him all his willpower to not flinch or pull back. "**HERMIONE GRANGER?**"

He gave a barely noticeable nod in response, his gaze concentrated on anything but the atrociousness right in front of him.

"**BUT WHY HER, SNAPE? ISN'T SHE JUST ANOTHER ONE OF MANY STUDENTS THAT HAVE WALKED THROUGH YOUR CLASSROOM DOOR? ISN'T SHE JUST AN ANNOYING KNOW-IT-ALL; A FOOLISH GRYFFINDOR WITH TOO MUCH IRRATIONAL VIRTUOUSNESS FOR HER OWN GOOD? HAVEN'T YOU BEEN TREATING HER WITH NOTHING BUT DISMISSIVENESS AND HATRED IN YOUR HEART FROM THE MOMENT YOU MET HER?**"

"No. I was wrong, completely wrong. She's … she's absolutely perfect." Big, fat tears started streaming down his sunken face. He had only realised his feelings for her after she'd disappeared; he didn't know when it'd happened exactly, but from one day to the other, he had all of the sudden noticed how empty the big castle seemed without her and her annoying know-it-all nature. He had soon found himself not being able to sleep; not being able to eat – all because he'd been too afraid of what might happen to her out there, with no one to protect her but those two idiotic brats. Not knowing whether she was still alive or not most days had been the worst of it all.

"**AND WHAT IF SHE DOESN'T WANT YOU?**"

"I don't care! I just need to go back and make sure she's safe!" Violent sobs rippled through his body. He was so hopelessly distraught that he even got in a begging position on his hands and knees. "I cannot die, not now! Please don't make me lose her again! PLEASE! I CANNOT DIE!"

There was no immediate response to his desperate plea and for what felt like an eternity, the only thing interrupting the silence was his own wailing. But then something grabbed his head without warning and forcefully yanked it upwards, causing him to let out an agonized shriek. The skin on his scalp felt scorching hot underneath those long bony fingers, almost like it was already being burned by the flames of purgatory.

For a long drawn-out moment, the Reaper just stared at him motionlessly before ultimately letting his intimidating voice resound, "**SO IT SHALL BE.**"

And then he fell back into darkness.

He did not want to die.

* * *

He woke up with a start.

Sitting up rather ungainly, he was disorientated at first. His vision was too blurry to see anything and so he did not know where he was. Had this all just been a dream?

But then something warm suddenly touched his cheek. The gruesome image of Death still looming over his mind, he was overcome by fear and started to scream. "NO! NO, LEAVE ME ALONE!" he cried, trashing his limbs around violently.

Two hands grabbed onto his upper arms, holding them down in a gentle but firm manner. "Relax, Sir! You're safe now!" a familiar voice told him reassuringly. "Voldemort's long gone, it's just me now!"

"W-who?" he asked, still too afraid to open his eyes. He was scared that this was all just a trap.

"Hermione, Sir, Hermione Granger!"

Shocked, his eyes flew open. And it was true – there she was, kneeling next to his battered form on the messy, dust-covered floor in all her glory. Her hands and knees completely covered in his own blood, she was looking at him with a mixture of sadness, worry and relief. Her pale face was covered in dirt, her normally luscious brown curls were terribly tangled and her ill-fitting clothes were riddled with holes. But none of that was able to take away from her breath-taking beauty. Next to her petite frame, a small beaded bag made of purple fabric was sitting on the ground, with two tiny crystalline phials lying to the right of it. The first one was almost empty – judging by the tiny bit of red liquid still left at the very bottom, he would have guessed that it had used to contain Blood-Replenishing Potion – while the other one was half-way full with a bright blue substance that he did not recognise.

"Hermione?" he whispered in awe. It was almost too good to be true. Was she really back, after all these months?

She raised her brows almost as if she was a bit taken aback by his question. "Yes, Professor, it's me," she ultimately answered. "I –"

"Hermione?" a distant voice suddenly shouted, making the both of them jump. "Are you coming? We don't have a lot of time left!"

Her head turned towards the direction of the narrow tunnel leading back onto school grounds. "Just go without me, I'll follow soon!" she yelled back.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Harry, just go! You need to hurry!" And after a split second of silence, he could hear two sets of feet leaving through the underground passageway.

When they were finally gone, she pulled her wand out of her jeans pocket with a shaking hand and started to drag it across his neck, using nonverbal healing spells to close his wounds. It hurt a lot, but he barely even noticed. With her so close, he was more concentrated on remembering how to breathe.

"I really thought that we had almost lost you there, you know." She let out a nervous laughter. "We couldn't rush in to help you before we were absolutely sure that Voldemort was gone, of course, and by the time we got to you, you were already unresponsive and cold to the touch. And there was so, so much blood …"

Her bottom lip started to quiver and he thought that he could see tears start to form in her beautiful brown eyes – was she really about to cry for him? Oh, she was truly such an angel! She more than likely hated him just as much as any other student out there – maybe even more, considering that he had unjustifiably made her time at Hogwarts a living hell simply for being friends with a certain someone – and yet she still couldn't help but be upset at the thought of him passing away. He really didn't deserve her. He didn't even deserve a shred of her all-encompassing empathy.

She shook her head, almost as though she was trying to shake off her bad thoughts, before continuing, "Ever since Nagini attacked and nearly killed Mr Weasley, I have always been afraid that Voldemort might use her as a war weapon at some point. So I knew that I had to create some sort of antidote to her poison if we wanted to have any chance at defeating him. But I obviously didn't have access to her venom, so I just had to hope that my calculations were correct and pray it would work should we need to use it."

He could not believe his ears! For years, he'd been trying to find a way to save Nagini's victims, but he had always been unsuccessful – and yet, she had done it! That just proved that she was brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Developing new potions was already hard enough. But to create a working anti-venom without knowing the exact components of the venom it's supposed to cancel out was theoretically almost impossible – only a true genius could have achieved something like that!

She sighed. "I honestly believed that you were already dead. Me pouring that potion down your throat was really more of a desperate attempt at defying the laws of nature than anything else. But I guess miracles do actually happen sometimes." A tired smile appeared on her face. It was so lovely that his mouth instantly became dry.

"I still don't think that you are completely out of the woods yet, but don't worry," she said softly. "I'll take care of you now."


End file.
